


And Your Hand to Hold (The Demon Courtship Remix)

by stardropdream



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Cultural Differences, Demon Shiro (Voltron), First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Valentine's Day, Witch Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24794029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: Shiro's been in the human world for several years now, but still human courtship confuses him. But Valentine's Day seems the perfect opportunity to maybe, finally, make his interest in Keith known.It's a shame that Keith doesn't seem to be taking the hint, though.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 68
Kudos: 298
Collections: Sheith Remix 2020





	And Your Hand to Hold (The Demon Courtship Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [sweet on you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22744138) by [tealady19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealady19/pseuds/tealady19). 



> For the [sheithremix](https://twitter.com/sheithmix)... yes, I wrote a second one. For this one, I got to work with [Stephanie's](https://twitter.com/thimblee) fics. SO MANY GOOD CHOICES and I highly recommend each and every one of her fics if you haven't read them already. 
> 
> But, I really loved the fic she wrote for sheithlentines this year, and decided to adapt that-- making it Shiro POV and deciding that Shiro will be the one to try to romance Keith for Valentine's Day. 
> 
> Another huge shout-out and thanks to [Em](https://twitter.com/copilotsheith) for putting together such a great event! (And thank you to Sarah, Sharki, and Abbey for the cheerleading on this one.) 
> 
> I hope you all like it! Who doesn't want to read about Valentine's Day in June? 😅

“Thanks again for the teas!” the woman calls to Shiro, swinging a bag of her recent purchase in one hand and clasping another girl’s hand tightly with the other. They’re not regulars, but Shiro can feel the innate power that swirls within them. Witches, then, or beginning witches come to seek his shop.

Shiro nods, as he’s learned is appropriate for human partings, and wishes them a good rest of their day. His eyes fall to the way their fingers twine together as they exit, shuffling to navigate out the door without having to let go of one another. 

Shiro has never fully understood human’s propensity for romance and lust, if he’s honest. He understands it in theory, as he does with most human mannerisms, but sometimes he’ll be working in his shop and a couple will walk in holding hands and he’ll think, _What’s the point?_

It's not a matter of whether Shiro understands love— he does, and he feels it— but that human customs perplex him. There’s no advantage to occupying one’s hand like that, clasped tight to another human’s. It limits range of motion and certainly doesn’t provide any benefits to spellcasting. Clearly it offers no advantage to navigating doorways, either. 

Shiro’s been in the human world for many years now and still romantic pursuits confound him. Flowers, gifts, dates, blushing side-glances, sweaty palms. It all seems rather strange to Shiro. He’s not surprised that human courtship is nothing like demon courtship— no endless fire, no abyssal proclamations, no blood oaths of devotion, no sharing of a True Name to symbolize one’s absolute power of another. Demons are, in general, a little intense, which is partly why Shiro’s contented himself in the human realm for so long. 

Up until a few years ago, Shiro would never have understood the _need_ to display one’s love for another in such saccharine demonstrations as humans tend to enjoy. 

But then, a few years ago, he met Keith. 

Shiro’s been in love ever since. 

Keith’s in the shop today for his weekly visit, deliberating between the selection of loose-leaf teas that Shiro makes. Shiro’s familiar with Keith’s preferences— how he almost always goes for the one with hawthorn. But, today, he seems torn between that and a blend with marigold. He twists the top off the sample jar to smell, his expression turning gentle as he inhales. 

Affection curls tight in Shiro’s chest. A wholly human reaction, he thinks, but Keith somehow always makes him feel human. 

He’s felt it ever since Keith first accidentally summoned him, all those summers ago. Keith had just been trying to make a sleep draught and through some creative mispronunciation, summoned Shiro mid-transaction with a rude necromancer who couldn’t take no for an answer. 

It'd been the strangest first meeting with a human Shiro has ever experienced, especially since Shiro’s long since moved away from contract-work with them. But summoned demons are obligated to make a contract, but the one between him and Keith had been simple: new ingredients and Abyssal language lessons. 

After their contract was complete, Shiro left Keith his business card for his shop and thought he’d never see the witch again. 

Instead, they’ve been friends ever since. 

And Shiro’s also been pining ever since, a very strange, atypical feeling for a demon. But Keith draws it from him with his dark eyes glowing with magic, his quicksilver smile, his wit and humor sharper than any dagger. 

Keith’s fingers are deft as he twists the cap of the hawthorn blend to sniff it, as if he could have forgotten what his favorite blend smells like. Then he goes back to the marigold. His fingers are dexterous, nimble and graceful as he works, and Shiro tries to picture what it’d look like to hold Keith’s hand, if that’s what human lovers do. 

He's never actually told Keith that he’s in love with him. Shiro’s well-aware and long accepted that Keith views him only as a friend. A good friend, maybe even a best friend if Shiro were to press— another human distinction that Shiro doesn’t know the nuances of— but not a romantic prospect. 

It’s just as well. Shiro isn’t sure if he’s heard of any long-term relationships between a human and a demon. Most human-demon interactions are contract-based, and any sexual contracts that demand a body price burn with lust more than love. But Shiro knows that what he feels isn’t just lust. He’s no incubus. 

He's thought about saying the words to Keith, regardless. Words have power, and he trusts Keith with that power. He knows Keith would be kind, even if he didn’t feel the same way as Shiro. He’d never use the words against him. 

Shiro watches Keith with a small sigh, studying him as he studies the teas. Shiro’s sure his smile is a bit dopey, chin in his hand as he leans over his counter and watches Keith’s brow pinch. 

Keith’s so focused on his tea that he doesn’t notice when Shiro approaches. He didn’t get the chance to properly greet Keith when he arrived earlier since he snuck in while Shiro was working with customers.

“Oh,” he says as he peeks over Keith’s shoulder, nearly spooning up to his back, grin flashing when he sees Keith jolt in surprise at his sudden presence, “That’s a good choice.” 

He’s sure his smile looks downright impish— hardly becoming of a demon as old as he, but, well, Keith makes him feel young and silly. He’s sure his grin is flashing his fangs. 

Keith sets the jar of tea back on the shelf, hands lifting as if to steady all the glass bottles from rattling. 

“You okay there?” Shiro asks as Keith fidgets and fusses. 

Keith glares at him over his shoulder, but it lacks any true heat. There’s something affectionate in his gaze, his cheeks pink. Shiro hopes he hasn’t startled him too badly by sneaking up on him. 

“What if you’d scared me and made me knock all of this over?” Keith asks.

Shiro shrugs. “You could always make a cleaning spell for me.” 

“Am I your maid?” Keith says, snorting as he fiddles with the glass jars, rearranging and straightening them out on the shelf. 

“That one’s a good choice,” Shiro says when Keith’s hand brushes over the marigold blend. “If you’re not sure which one to go with. I put a lot of work into these new ones.” 

Keith picks up the marigold blend again, turning to look up at Shiro. He’s pretty— always so, so pretty— with his pink cheeks and kind eyes. Keith’s a strong witch and his eyes burn with that inner magic. It’s part of what drew Shiro to him in the first place, the way Keith’s magic seemed to call out to Shiro’s very soul. 

“It smelled really sweet,” Keith says, shaking the jar of marigold tea. “I was surprised.” 

Shiro beams, pleased with the praise. He’d spent a lot of time with that blend trying to get the perfect level of sweetness. “I thought it would be a good post-meal drink. Good for digestion and dessert!” 

He knows how important digestion is for humans, after all. They seem to get really excited when he says one of his tea blends are good for it. 

Keith snorts, his expression lightening into something teasing. Shiro grins at him, shoving his hair off his forehead and past his horns. 

The bell above the door twinkles behind them. When Shiro glances over his shoulder, another couple walks into the shop holding hands. They’re regulars, waving to Shiro before heading towards the back aisle where Shiro keeps the richer herbal blends. 

Shiro studies their hands clasped as they pass, a frown plucking at the corners of his mouth. 

“What’s wrong?” Keith asks as he picks out both the marigold blend and the hawthorn blend, cradling them in the crook of his elbow. After some thought, he picks out a red currant blend, too. 

“Nothing,” Shiro says, drawing his eyes away from where the couple just passed. He tilts his head. “I’ve just been thinking a lot lately about holding hands.”

Keith chokes, the jars rattling together in Keith’s hold. “Really?” 

Keith doesn’t protest when Shiro reaches out and takes the jars for him, setting them aside so he can fill up Keith’s usual containers with loose leaf. 

Shiro feels Keith’s eyes on him as he works. 

“Why?” Keith asks.

“Why what?”

“Why have you been thinking about it?” 

Keith looks pink-cheeked again. Blushing is such a strange human phenomenon that Shiro still doesn’t understand, even after years in the human world and even after both Allura and Lotor have tried to explain it to him. Sometimes a blush means embarrassment, sometimes it means anger, sometimes it means a fever or just being overheated, sometimes it means rouging makeup, sometimes it means sunburn— honestly, Shiro’s given up on trying to interpret what it means when Keith turns red. All he knows is that he looks beautiful when he does. 

Shiro studies Keith’s face, frowning, trying to make sense of his reaction to Shiro’s benign statement. 

Instead of answering right away, he kneels on the floor, opening up one of the bottom cupboards beneath the tea counter and pulling out the bags he packs the loose leaf tea in for customers. He starts measuring out spoonfuls of the tea into each container for Keith. 

“Humans have always been very romantic,” Shiro says thoughtfully as he measures out even spoonful after even spoonful. “But their gestures are very strange to me.” 

“Are you interested in romance, Shiro?” Keith says, his voice quiet. 

Shiro frowns, considering, and shakes his head. He’s not interested in romance so much as he’s interested in romance _with Keith_. There’s a difference.

“It’s more that I’m curious, I think?”

It’s funny, considering demons are typically both expected to lie and yet regarded as bluntly truthful in most circumstances. It’s more the expertise of the Fae to talk in circles to avoid telling the exact truth, but Shiro certainly makes it a point to be truthful with Keith and in general. The fact that he hasn’t actually hinted at his feelings to Keith in the years they’ve known each other is perhaps a small miracle. But Keith is worth it, and it’s worth preserving their friendship. 

Lately, he’s been thinking more and more of telling Keith, though. Just to have that truth out between them. To move from there. 

He's not really sure how Keith would react to being courted. In all their years of friendship, Keith’s never indicated any particular interest in romance, either. He’s certainly never seen Keith hold anyone’s hand. Keith’s usually too busy visiting with Shiro or working on his spellcasting to think of dating. 

He glances at Keith’s hands, twisted together, fidgeting as Shiro finishes loading up his tea. Keith licks his lips and asks, “What about it are you curious about?” 

“Hand-holding,” Shiro says, tugging his gaze away from Keith’s hands to meet his eyes. “Romantic gestures. I’ve noticed more of it lately.” 

“Oh!” Keith says, brow furrowing. “I’m not sure why there’d be more of it.” 

Maybe it’s not that there’s more of it, but just that Shiro’s just been _noticing_ it more and more. 

His eyes dart back to Keith’s hands. He can’t guess at what Keith would do, if Shiro were to just reach out and grasp one with his. 

“Oh!” Keith says as a thought occurs to him. “Maybe because it’s almost Valentine’s Day?” 

Shiro frowns. “What Day?”

Keith gives him an indulgent look. It’s warranted, since Shiro has been in the human realm for years. He should know these human eccentricities by now. 

“It’s a holiday,” Keith says. “For lovers.” He says the last word quietly, the blush returning. He clears his throat, tugging down a fourth jar of tea, although the choice seems an arbitrary and blind one. “They, uh. You know. You do sappy stuff with the person you love. That kind of thing.” 

“Huh,” Shiro says. 

Human holidays have always confused him, aside from the ones based in a history of demonic arts or summoning circles. A day devoted to love, however, seems appropriate given the sentimentality of the human race. He’ll need to ask Allura about it more once he sees her this afternoon. 

“An entire day devoted to love?” 

“Yeah.” Keith stands there, shifting from foot to foot, but doesn’t say anything else. 

Shiro hums, unsure how to take the response. He breathes in and back out again. “So… only the tea today?”

“Oh,” Keith says, sounding hushed. “Right. Yeah. That’s all for today. I have a few spells I’m going to work on this week, but I need to double-check the recipe later… I didn’t bring the list today.” 

“You know you’re always welcome here, Keith. Every day, if you wanted.” He laughs, turning and heading back towards the register, Keith tailing behind him. “Stop by again with your list and I’ll help.” 

Keith hovers at the register with Shiro, though, clearly in no hurry to pay and leave. Shiro’s in no hurry to ring him up, either, so they end up chatting a bit, watching the other customers in the shop move around, collecting their ingredients. 

Shiro watches Keith, eyes tracing his profile. He hesitates and then says, “What do humans do when they’re in love? For your holiday, I mean.” 

Keith jolts again, elbow slipping and nearly knocking his tea to the ground. He turns back to look at Shiro, blinking. “I, uh. I think it depends on the human.” 

Shiro nods. “Of course.” He tilts his head. “How do _you_ celebrate it?” 

He’s not quite sure why he’s asking. 

Keith bites his lip. “I, uh. I don’t. I mean, I don’t really have anyone to celebrate with,” Keith says. “Except for Kosmo, I guess. But, you know, familiars don’t really count.” 

Shiro loves Keith’s familiar, Kosmo, but while the soul connection between familiar and witch is intense and soul-deep, it’s not really the type of thing celebrated in a human day devoted to love. 

Keith steps aside as the regular customers approach the counter, setting out their wares. Shiro tallies and rings up each item and accepts the money the customers hand him. He waves as they retreat, the door’s bell twinkling with their departure. 

Keith sways back into the space, eyes on Shiro. Shiro thinks of all the things he could ask him— what he’d want for a Valentine’s day present, what he’d do to initiate a courtship, what he’d do if a demon wished to court him, what would he _say_ —

Shiro smiles at Keith and watches as his friend’s cheeks turn pink, shuffling the tea on the counter, arranging and rearranging them, giving his hands something to do. 

Shiro watches his hands and imagines holding them. 

-

The thought occurs to him only after he’s closed up the shop for the night, heading back towards his apartment: Valentine’s Day and its many mysterious intricacies could be the way to approach courtship with Keith. 

It’s just as clear a proclamation as any. Shiro’s been thinking of a way to talk about it with Keith for months now. Demonkind tend to move slowly, time unfurling so sluggishly in the abyssal realm. 

But Shiro’s tired of waiting. 

He corners Allura in the evening when she arrives for their work meeting, asking everything she knows of Valentine’s Day. She’s been part of the human world for far longer than Shiro, and certainly mingles better with them. Her eyes glitter with mischief when Shiro asks for details. 

“Oh,” she says, smiling slowly, cheeks flashing with dimples. “Whyever do you wish to know of human courtship rituals, I wonder?” 

Shiro frowns. He imagines that, if he were human, the question would make him blush. “I… I want to give a gift to Keith.”

“Oh!” Allura says, not looking the least bit surprised as she claps her hands together. “I knew it!” 

Of course she did. Shiro might be subtle by human standards, but he’s sure his devotion to Keith must roll off him in waves. Another demon like Allura would pick up on it instantly and especially since they work together. 

“So… what would be best?” Shiro asks. 

Allura has a few suggestions, which he dutifully writes down. He studies his list for a few hours, trying to memorize it all— the best types of gifts, the best type of gestures. _Something that shows you were thinking of him,_ Allura had stressed. _And only him._

That’s not difficult. He’s always thinking of Keith. He’s been doing that for years. 

His tea blends are testament to that, as well as the hand-carved casting tiles, the purifying salt and ground-up mandrake root. So many of the things he has in his shop are there entirely because he knows it will benefit Keith, knows it will bring Keith back every week to find his supplies, knows it will make Keith happy. 

Keith gives him gifts, too— grounding spells, purifying spells, cleaning spells, cooking spells, protection spells. Keith once slaved away at his casting counter for two weeks to craft a preserving spell for Shiro’s garden to help keep his parsley alive. He then worked for another week to create a banishing spell for all the aphids on Shiro’s carrots. 

He’s brought Shiro bouquets of different flowers in the past specifically so Shiro can chop them up and hang them to dry, grinding them into powders and teas. He almost always brings Shiro things— spells, flowers, roots— without asking. 

_I thought you’d like it,_ he always says. 

Keith is a good friend. They get along well, and he’s helped Keith with his spells in turn, no contract required. That, alone, should broadcast his devotion to Keith. No demon worth his salt would do magic without a contract or without receiving something in return. 

Everything in this world comes with a price. Shiro knows this well. The only thing that can be given freely, that can be given without a debt, are feelings. The feelings he houses inside himself for Keith, the ways in which he honors and cherishes their friendship— that has no price. 

He's resolved. Keith deserves to know that Shiro is dedicated to him. That’s what he tells himself when, during a lull in his morning deliveries the next day, Shiro ducks into a bakery.

_Chocolates,_ Allura listed for him. _Or some kind of sweet._

There’s a large assortment of delicious-looking pastries laid out in their case: fluffy chocolate mousse, creamy tiramisu, carrot cake with cream cheese frosting, eclairs lined up in pretty little rows, cookies of all shapes and sizes, tartlets and petit-fleurs. Shiro’s never been one for desserts— after so long in the demon realm feasting upon ichor and emptiness, it’s a little hard to make the transition to sugar— but he has to admit that each one looks beautiful. 

Keith’s under the impression that Shiro loves sweets. It’s because the first time he ever brought him a brownie, Shiro wolfed it down specifically so he wouldn’t have to taste it, fearing he’d cringe over the sweetness and make Keith feel bad. It backfired, of course. _Holy shit, you really liked that, huh?_ Keith asked and then started giving him sweets all the time. 

Shiro contemplates some strawberry tarts. They’re perfectly round, golden at the edges and plump with sweet strawberries and cream. They’re adorable and the color reminds him of Keith’s blushes, of his lips after he’s bitten them too hard in his concentration. He thinks that Keith likes strawberries, or maybe he’s just thinking of a general human propensity for strawberry.

He stares for such a long time that he’s sure he’s making the baker uncomfortable. Shiro’s tail lashes back and forth in thought as he kneels so close to the glass that he’s nearly pressing his nose to it. 

“I’ll take two, please,” he says, finally decided. The baker lingering behind the case, waiting for his decision, moves to pack up two into a white box. 

He pays for his purchase and, feeling triumphant with his decision, Shiro heads towards Keith’s apartment. 

-

He’s been to Keith’s place a few times, sometimes just to spend time together and sometimes because he’s needed to deliver a good collection of ingredients while Keith’s elbow-deep in a spell. 

They haven’t made plans today, though, so Keith looks surprised when he opens the door and sees Shiro standing there. “Shiro? What’s up?” He looks at the pastry box in Shiro’s hand and frowns. “Did I order something and forget to come pick it up?” 

“No,” Shiro says, laughing. “I was just… Ah, in the area, and I thought I’d stop by. I brought something for you!” 

“Oh, is it the fairy-wings you ordered?” Keith asks, eyes going bright with excitement as he steps back, swinging the door wider for Shiro to enter. “I’ve been trying to get that fruit tree spell just right for _weeks_ while waiting for those.”

Shiro chuckles. “Sorry, don’t have those yet… I have to wait for molting season before the Fae will fork them over. But! I have something better.” He waits for Keith to get his hands on the box to hold it steady for him so Shiro can pop the lid with his hand, presenting Keith with the picturesque, shiny tarts. “Ta da!” 

“Damn,” Keith says, “those are beautiful. Did you make those?”

“Ha!” Shiro barks a laugh, shaking his head. “I’m not quite so skilled in the human art of baking but thank you for having faith in me.” 

Keith’s smile is shy but sweet, his eyes glittering, and he’s never looked more handsome. He takes the box fully from Shiro and hums his approval as he surveys the tarts. He looks up at Shiro with a small smile and says, “There are two here. That mean we’re sharing?” 

Shiro’s already accepted that he’s going to need to eat a tart. He nods and lets Keith corral him to his kitchen table. Keith uses one strong, firm hand on Shiro’s shoulder to coax him to sit before he retreats to his kitchen, fetching plates and forks. 

He returns quickly enough with the tarts on two plates. He’s grinning, clearly excited as he sits across from Shiro. 

“This is a really nice surprise,” Keith says. “Plus, you’re saving me from scrubbing out my cauldron.” 

Shiro laughs. It’s easily Keith’s least favorite, but necessary, chore— one can’t simply use a cleaning spell on a magical cauldron meant to create new spells. And cleaning cauldrons of their goopy ingredients isn’t even the worst part, it’s scrubbing it clean of all residual magic that makes Keith whine. Shiro finds Keith’s whining charming, although he understands that it’s supposed to be a bad quality in humans. 

“Always happy to help, Keith,” Shiro says. “I’m just glad I’m not intruding.” 

“Well, let’s try these things!” Keith says, but just as he picks up his fork, Kosmo hops up, planting his massive paws on the table and chomping down on Keith’s tart in one fell swoop. It makes Keith squawk, half-surprise and half-outrage. “Kosmo! What the—” 

Shiro startles, too. Kosmo moves so quietly that sometimes he loses track of him. Familiars are like that. 

He frowns as the wolf swallows down the tart Shiro bought specifically for Keith. It’s not good form to glare at a witch’s familiar, but Shiro feels a deep sense of betrayal considering how much he personally loves Kosmo.

But Kosmo turns his head and gives Shiro a knowing look, eyes glittering and bright like Keith’s, the spectral reflection of Keith’s essence. Shiro’s brow furrows. Kosmo stares deep into Shiro’s eyes, seems to stare into his very soul, and then he turns back and snaps up Keith’s fork in his mighty jaws. 

“Kosmo!” Keith shrieks as Kosmo darts away, “Get back here— what do you _mean_ , ‘Oh well’?” 

“Oh well?” Shiro asks as Kosmo leaps through a wall and disappears with a pop of flashy blue light. 

“He literally just said, ‘Oh well, guess you’ll have to share,’” Keith mutters and then blushes. 

Shiro looks down at the remaining tart set out in front of him and his one fork. He pushes the plate towards Keith. “I brought these for you, Keith,” Shiro says. “I want you to try it.”

“You should have some, too,” Keith says with a pout, looking like he wants to get up and chase his familiar through the wall. 

All of Shiro’s earlier frustration evaporates as he looks at the singular tart and thinks of Kosmo’s knowing look. He thinks he might have an ally in Keith’s familiar. And, really, it’s unbearably reassuring. After all, a familiar would never actively do something that counters his companion’s soul desires. 

If Kosmo is playing wingman, it’s for a reason. 

“Here, Keith,” Shiro says and cuts into the tart, scooping up a modest bite on the fork before he holds it out to Keith. 

Keith’s face turns bright red. “Shiro—!” 

“Go on,” Shiro says and smiles, warmth stirring in his chest. He gestures with the fork, leaning across the table to get it closer. “Try it. It’s for you.”

Keith blushes deeper, clears his throat, and stares at Shiro. He hesitates, Shiro sees that moment of hesitation, but then he leans across the table and closes his lips around the fork, dragging in the bite of tart. Shiro tries very hard not to stare at his mouth, especially as Keith chews.

Keith glances down, humming. “Oh. It’s— it’s really good.” 

“Yeah?” Shiro asks.

“Try it,” Keith says, seizing the fork and cutting another bite. This time, he offers it out to Shiro to try.

Shiro takes a breath then leans in, eating the piece of tart from Keith’s fork. 

“Oh,” he says as he chews. “It’s not that sweet.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Keith says and Shiro doesn’t correct him, humming and shaking his head. 

They swap the fork between them, cutting into pieces of the tart and offering it to one another. Keith never quite stops blushing, but the tension in his shoulders eases as they devour the tart. Keith gets the last bite, even if he insists Shiro should take it, laughing when Shiro shoves the fork forward so forcefully that he nearly stabs Keith in the chin. 

“Right, right,” Keith says, laughing. “Stubborn demon.”

Shiro grins and he’s sure it’s all fangs, his eyes glowing in delight. “That’s me.” 

He helps Keith clean up and then he offers to help clean Keith’s cauldron. This makes Keith snort a laugh and shake his head, refusing gently and assuring Shiro that he’d see him in a few days when he stops by the store. 

“Thanks for the tart,” Keith says. He smiles. “You’re a good friend, Shiro.” 

“I try,” Shiro says. He wonders if it’s appropriate to remind Keith that he can also be more. If he wanted. But the moment passes and Shiro lets it go with one small wave, leaving Keith to his cauldron. 

Kosmo is lingering outside the front door as Shiro exits, and he makes sure to stop to pet him, accepting all the licks to his face, whispering a small _thank you_ before he returns to his store. 

-

“Keith!” Shiro says brightly when Keith enters the shop a few days later. “Just who I wanted to see!” 

Keith laughs, blushing as he heads towards the front counter. “Hey, Shiro.” 

Shiro bounces onto the tips of his toes, excited, rocking back and forth. “Well?”

“Well?”

“Do you want to know why I wanted to see you?” Shiro asks, grinning. 

Really, he’s been brimming over with excitement, hoping that Keith would stop by today. Their last visit went so well, had given Shiro a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, he’s not completely off-base on their friendship becoming a human courtship. If everything continues to go well, then he should be able to make his intentions clearer, to begin to court Keith in earnest. 

Part of him wants to believe that Keith’s blushes mean the good kind of blushing— the embarrassed, happy rather than overheated or unwelcomed. 

“Okay. Why did you want to see me?” Keith asks, smiling, clearly expecting a tease.

Shiro hops up and down on his toes. “I made a new blend of tea. I want you to try it.” 

Keith opens his mouth to say something but Shiro doesn’t wait for the answer. He hurries away to find the electric kettle he uses to serve customers samples of the tea, flipping the switch to get the water boiling. 

He plucks up the specialty blend he made from his herbs and teas, shaking it a bit to mix everything up, then gets his steepers and mugs. He finds his favorite mug, the one shaped like a cat, because he knows Keith will like it even if he’s more of a dog (or wolf) person. 

“What’s in it?” Keith asks, leaning against the counter and watching Shiro as he fiddles, using his tail to multitask in lieu of his missing right arm. He smiles when Shiro sets the empty mug in front of him as they wait for the water to boil. 

“It’s a secret,” Shiro says with a wink. It makes Keith blush deeper, which just makes Shiro grin wider. “I call it… New Love.”

“Oh,” Keith says, tipping his face down. “A tea for Valentine’s Day, then?” 

“We’re getting into the spirit here,” Shiro says, gesturing above his head at the strings of pink lights and fluttery heart decorations. It’d been Allura’s idea, but Shiro had agreed it was a nice touch, even if slightly different from the general aesthetic their herbal shop exudes. 

Keith looks up, assessing the decorations. His mouth twitches with a smile, his cheeks red. “I see.” 

“And I really want you to try this one,” Shiro says, hoping he’s placing enough emphasis to make it clear what he means, that the name has meaning, that the tea has meaning, that _Keith_ has meaning to him.

“It smells nice,” Keith says quietly, looking down. It means his eyelashes fan out across his cheeks, pretty and sooty dark. He bites his lip, worrying it between his teeth. His fingers drum against the side of the mug. He’s so beautiful. 

“Yeah,” Shiro says. “It’s all your favorite things.”

Keith blinks and looks up. “I thought you said the ingredients were a secret.”

Shiro shrugs. “I’m not good at secrets. I want to… I want to always be truthful with you, Keith.” 

Keith studies him, tilting his head to the side. The water finishes boiling behind Shiro and he turns to fetch it and the steepers for the tea, pouring the water into Keith’s mug and then Shiro’s matching one. 

The tea bleeds into the water, staining it a dark color. The scent is rich— black tea, lavender, rose, limeflower, marigold. Shiro wanted to add in Keith’s other favorite flavors— the spice of chai, the gentleness of currant, the sweet lick of chamomile— but he had to make the flavor balanced. Too much and it’d be muddy. Too little, and it wouldn’t make Keith happy. 

Keith leans down, closing his eyes as he inhales, his smile slowly curling like the steam rising from his mug. “Oh,” he says, voice softer. “It smells great, Shiro.”

“New Love is supposed to make you feel good,” Shiro says, agreeing, studying Keith’s face for his reaction. Keith looks up at him and Shiro smiles, softer this time. “It’s— well. I wanted it to be… a good tea for you, Keith.” 

Keith looks down as Shiro fusses with the steepers, dabbing it in and out to get the dredges of the flavor without oversteeping, setting each steeper down in its own little dish to keep from dripping over his counter. 

Before Keith can lift the mug to sip, Shiro asks, “Do you want to take a walk? Together? With our tea.”

“With our ceramic mugs?” Keith asks, looking incredulous but amused. 

“Just to the park around the corner, maybe,” Shiro says. “It’s a nice day.”

“It’s cold as fuck,” Keith says, laughing. Shiro doesn’t really feel the cold the way humans do, but he supposes that Keith does have a scarf on today and a cute beanie to cover his ears. 

“We don’t have to,” Shiro says, wilting.

He must look pathetic. He can see it in the twitch of Keith’s lips as he regards him. Then he cups his mug in both hands, shrugs, and says, “After you.” 

Shiro perks up, heading to the back room to let Allura know he’s taking a break. Then, together with Keith, they head out into the street. They must look kind of silly with their ceramic mugs full of piping hot tea, but it seems to help dispel the lingering chill in Keith’s fingers, holding it carefully as they walk. 

It's a quick walk to the park. Keith eventually shifts to holding his cup one-handed, his other hand slipping into his pocket to keep warm. They walk side by side, traveling the little park path and watching some kids build a snowman as they pass. A few other couples are outside holding hands. 

Shiro can’t help but stare at the hand-holding. It just keeps capturing his attention. He can’t stop thinking about holding Keith’s hand. 

He regrets, deeply, that his one hand is occupied holding the mug and Keith’s free hand is tucked into his pocket. He wants, desperately, to hold Keith’s hand. Maybe this was the perfect opportunity and he squandered it. 

_Sharing a drink together and taking a walk,_ Allura had told him, another item on his list. He thinks Allura meant something like hot chocolate at a coffee shop, then a walk, but Shiro had been overeager. 

Shiro doesn’t experience the sensation of cold the way humans do, so even with his light sweater and bare hands, he feels fine. But as he looks at the couples around them holding hands, Shiro can’t help but shiver. It’s a strange sensation that ripples down his spine, longing and desire sliding through him. He _wants_ so desperately to hold Keith’s hand. 

“Hey,” Keith says when Shiro shivers again. “Didn’t you tell me once that demons don’t get cold?” 

“We have hellfire within us,” Shiro says with a nod. 

Keith frowns and stops walking. He takes a step off the path to set his mug down on a bench, then plucks Shiro’s from his hand. Shiro stands there, confused, as Keith takes a deep breath and swirls his fingers through the air, whispering a gentle incantation. 

His hands glow with magic, warm and bright, and when Keith reaches out to press his fingertips against Shiro’s hand, Shiro feels a blaze of warmth flare to life over his skin. It doesn’t stop Shiro from shivering, though. The opposite, really— feeling the gentle brush of Keith’s fingertips over his knuckles leaves Shiro so aware of Keith, of how close he is, of how easy it’d be to reach out and touch him.

He wonders how Keith would react, if he did. 

“There,” Keith says. “That should help.” 

“You didn’t have to,” Shiro says. 

“Wear gloves next time,” Keith says, taking back his cup and holding Shiro’s out to him, too. “Hellfire or otherwise.”

Shiro laughs, taking the mug Keith holds out to him. “Ah… Forgive me.” 

“Nothing to forgive,” Keith says and his smile returns, a light little tilt of his lips. 

Shiro sighs as they resume walking. Holding their mugs, there’s no hope of Shiro taking Keith’s hand. He imagines how nice it’d feel, to hold hands, or to slip his hand into Keith’s pocket and stay there. 

He’s not sure of the human courting protocol: if he should aim to do more with Keith now, if it’s not just holding hands, but also professing undying attraction, too. Keith has always been quieter, gentler and slower to warm. He doesn’t want to mess this up. 

He might need to ask Allura for more advice on courtship suggestions. So far, he doesn’t appear to have utterly failed, but he’s not certain if Keith understands what Shiro is trying to do. They give each other gifts all the time, after all, or spend time together. 

Or, maybe Keith’s aware of what Shiro is doing and is politely failing to acknowledge it. Demons are very explicit in their rejection of others— biting heads off quite literally— but he knows that humans can be more _polite_ and subtle in their rejections. 

Shiro feels very out of his depth, trying to court a human witch. 

“How do you like the tea?” Shiro asks.

Keith hums and takes a deep sip, his smile returning. “It’s really good, Shiro. If you’re selling this for the holiday, I think it’ll go over really well.” 

Shiro beams. “But _you_ like it?”

“Yeah,” Keith says, blushing so sweetly. “It’s, ah… I guess it must taste like a new love, right? Makes you feel all warm and airy.” 

“That’s what I wanted,” Shiro says. “That’s what… I thought that’s what you’d like to feel. Maybe.”

Keith nods, his hand snug in his pocket. He sips the tea until it’s down to the dredges, saying nothing more.

-

Shiro stares at the bouquet in its vase, sitting on his countertop, and thinks: _This is it._

This, he thinks, must broadcast his feelings and intentions to Keith. 

Keith might reject him for it, but he might also accept it and allow Shiro to court him properly. Either way, he’s sure there can be no mistake for this. 

_Roses,_ Allura told him. _Humans put so much importance in roses._

Shiro plucks off one imperfect petal from one of the roses. It’s a decent-sized bouquet— red roses, blushing pink carnations, and white chrysanthemums. He even added some green sprigs to balance the whole thing out. 

Now as he waits for Keith to arrive and pick up his ingredients for the weekend, Shiro fears that maybe he’s overdone it. It’s a pretty big bouquet and Keith is private and shy. He might be embarrassed to carry this back to his apartment. Maybe Shiro should have delivered it instead. There might still be time for him to hide it in the back and stop by later. 

Maybe that’d be better. Maybe Keith would kiss him in the doorway. For all of humanity’s perplexities, demons at least share that regard for kissing. It’s nice. He really wants to kiss Keith. 

The bell rings cheerfully over the door as Keith steps in just as Shiro’s decided that, yes, he’ll hide the bouquet away for later. Well. Too late now.

Shiro sucks in a steadying breath. 

“Keith!” Shiro greets, unable to resist the way he breaks into a smile despite his nerves. Maybe he looks a little manic. He’s not sure. 

“Hey, Shiro,” Keith says with an answering smile. He swings his tote bag. “Here to get some—” 

Shiro doesn’t let him finish, seizing the bouquet and shoving it right at Keith. “I saw these and thought of you!” 

The words are nothing like the nice speech he had planned, a speech about how Keith is as beautiful as any flower and how the flowers reminded him of love and Keith’s blush. How he likes Keith’s blush. It wasn’t a perfect speech, but it was at least a bit better than yelling at the guy you want to court. 

Keith pushes the bouquet away from his face and Shiro’s heart wilts. But then it leaps again when Keith takes the flowers instead, blinking in surprise. 

“Thank you, Shiro?” 

“You’re welcome,” Shiro says, holding his breath. Waiting. 

Keith twirls the bouquet around and then pulls it from the vase. He tucks it into his bag and smiles. Shiro continues to wait, but then Keith hums and turns.

“Alright,” he says. “Now I just need my lilypad and essence of newt foot.” 

“Oh,” Shiro says, hoping he’s not visibly disappointed. “Right. Okay, Keith.” 

He feels like a kicked puppy as Keith heads down the aisles, placing ingredients into his tote bag alongside the bouquet. They look a little crushed in the bag, tucked under Keith’s arm. The roses are getting rumpled. Shiro hand-picked them himself, was sure to trim the thorns and leaves himself, specifically so they’d look as beautiful as possible for Keith.

He watches Keith like a hawk, feeling for his magic even once Keith turns out of sight towards the back of the shop. Keith is an ever-present, burning flame in his magic— warm, comforting, and welcoming to Shiro. He could find Keith’s magic anywhere in a crowd, called home by it. 

He perks up when Keith appears again, and he must look eager. 

“What’s up?” Keith asks, setting down his bag heavy with his materials for the weekend. 

Shiro tries to school his expression back into something more neutral and less hopeful. “Just, ah… you like the flowers?”

“Oh yeah, don’t worry,” Keith says. “I’ve got you, big guy.” 

Keith sets down his payment— too much for what he’s purchasing, but he shoos Shiro’s hand away when he goes to get change. 

“See you later!” Keith calls cheerfully, waving as he exits. 

Shiro wants to be respectful of human culture. He knows that humans are not as loud and explicit as demons can be. But Shiro truly can’t tell if Keith is rejecting him or not. If it’s a rejection through silence, and Keith is trying to spare his feelings, it does little to assure Shiro. It’d be better if Keith would just say it outright. 

Shiro watches him go. He’s so disappointed that Allura asks him why he’s pouting even hours after the fact, swirling his hand along the lip of the empty vase. 

-

Shiro’s unsure what to do after the utter rose-failure. 

If it’s Keith’s quiet way of rejecting him, to continue pursuing him would be pressuring and unwelcome. But, if instead, Shiro needs to state his intentions outright, to back off now would just confuse Keith. 

He does not understand human courtship. 

Keith is the one he’d ask about strange human idiosyncrasies, but he’s not sure if this is something he should ask Keith outright when the issue is about him. 

It’s why Shiro waffles for a good hour, steeling himself to call Keith on his phone, only to set it back down again and wander his apartment, scratching at the base of his horns in thought. His tail lashes back and forth, nearly knocking over the decorative urn he has set out beside his favorite sitting chair. 

“Okay… This will work.” 

He says it softly to himself just as he punches the call button on his phone with his thumb. He waits as the phone rings. 

Keith once complained about Shiro’s tendency to call rather than text, but Shiro is a demon and doesn’t understand the nuance of human communication. Plus, he just likes hearing Keith’s voice and hates typing out words on his tiny phone with his big fingers. 

“Shiro?” Keith asks when he picks up. “What’s up?” 

Today is Valentine’s Day. Shiro checked the calendar to make sure. He tightens his hold on the phone, breathing in and out again before he asks, “Have you eaten yet, Keith? I’m trying out a new recipe, if you want to be a guinea pig.”

It’s not the most romantic of proclamations, but he’s not sure how else to get Keith into the kitchen. He’s gotten pretty good at cooking human dishes, he thinks (better at cooking than he is baking), and he did find a dish he thinks Keith will really like. He _wants_ Keith to enjoy it. He wants Keith to enjoy his company.

Hell and all its fire, he just wants Keith. 

Shiro thought he was used to simmering longing. Now that he knows that this is something he could potentially have, he wants to chase it. He wants to give it a chance. He figures that Keith must value outright statements— he just needs to tell Keith that he loves him. Over dinner. Which Shiro is going to make, if Keith will agree.

“Yeah, I can come,” Keith says, and he sounds like he’s smiling. “What time?” 

“Anytime is fine,” Shiro says, excited. “I’ve just gotten started. Just come on in whenever. Door’s unlocked.” 

They say their goodbyes and Keith hangs up. Shiro springs into action after that, following the carefully written instructions from Allura to make the most romantic dinner possible. He has candles set out on the table, some wine chilling in the fridge, and he has the ingredients he needs to make a fantastic pasta bake. 

It takes some time for Keith to arrive, but his magic flits across Shiro’s senses long before Shiro hears him coming up the stairs towards his apartment. Shiro squirms in excitement, grinning as his front door opens at the barest touch of Keith’s fingers, Shiro’s magic responding instantly to Keith’s. He hears Keith toe off his boots and slide into the red slippers that Shiro keeps by the door for him. He hangs up his coat and bag on a hook with a little K charm on the end of it. 

Shiro’s made no secret of just how welcomed Keith is in his home. 

And then Keith rounds the corner and calls, “Hey Shiro!” 

“Hey! In here!” 

Keith winds his way through Shiro’s extra boxes of teas and herbs, then leans against the doorframe to the kitchen, grinning at Shiro. “Smells good in here.”

“Thanks,” Shiro says, beaming. “It’s just a pasta bake… but I made the sauce from scratch!” 

Pasta bake, he thinks, has to be the most romantic food imaginable. It’s homecooked, personable, and comfortable. Like the way Keith makes him feel— warm, satisfied, yet always ready for more. 

“I hope it’ll be good,” Shiro says. “I am always amazed by humans and their pastas.” 

Keith laughs as he steps further into the kitchen. Shiro’s heart starts to pound and he laughs, too, despite himself, giddy and excited and embarrassed. He might actually be blushing, too— he’s not sure if blushing is contagious, especially between human to demon, but Keith makes him want to blush. 

Keith makes him want to do everything. 

“Are you alright?” Keith asks. 

Shiro stares at Keith, breathing slow. “Okay. You can do this,” he says softly to himself, then to Keith, says, “Keith, I, um. Actually… look up?” 

Keith does, visibly confused. Shiro watches him stare up at the three roses Shiro’s hung upside down in the doorframe, pointing straight down towards Keith. He hopes it’s clear. He prays, desperately, that it’s clear. 

“… Why are you drying roses?” Keith asks. “New tea?” 

Shiro blinks at him. “Drying them? No.” 

Keith looks back at Shiro, lost. He fumbles for something else to say but doesn’t seem to manage it, so he just ends up looking at Shiro in quiet perplexity. 

Shiro frowns. “No, I mean… Keith.” He waits, his heart in his throat. “The flowers. That’s… it’s a human tradition to kiss under hanging flowers. Yes?” 

There. He’s said it. He’s made it clear. This is the moment where Keith will stare at him in shock and quietly reject him, or finally understand what Shiro is getting at and draw him in close. 

Now that the moment’s here, Shiro isn’t sure if he’s done it right at all. Maybe he’s done it all wrong. Maybe he should have done better, been clearer, been kinder— 

Keith looks absolutely stunned. “Hanging flowers?” 

He says nothing else. Shiro feels himself wilt, the silence more damning than an outright rejection. 

And then Keith’s eyes fly wide open. “K- kiss? You— _Shiro._ You want to kiss me?” 

They stare at one another. Keith’s face turns a delightful cherry red. He’s so unbearably pretty and Shiro is always so grateful to even be in his presence, to even consider him a friend. Keith is amazing— so smart, so wonderful, so kind. Shiro just wants to hold him. 

“Oh,” Keith says as realization dawns. “Oh, shit. You mean mistletoe, don’t you? That’s— that’s only a Christmas thing, Shiro.” 

“— Oh,” Shiro says. To say he feels disappointment is an understatement. “So you don’t…” 

“We don’t hang flowers, really, no. Not like this,” Keith says.

Shiro ducks his head, wincing. He takes a deep, steadying breath. The air smells like pasta bake and burning candles. He wonders if this is the last time Keith will want to be in this house with him. 

So much for human courtship. Shiro was a fool to believe he could ever be someone worthy of Keith. 

And then Keith takes his hand— Shiro barely registers it at first until Keith gives the smallest squeeze, summoning all of Shiro’s attention. Warmth zings through Shiro and he jerks his head up to look at him. 

“Um,” Keith says quietly. “Shiro…” 

“Y- yes?” 

“It’s… It’s pretty cute, actually,” Keith says and squeezes Shiro’s hand again, and it’s nothing like how Shiro imagined it’d feel, to hold someone’s hand purposefully. He barely registers the words for how much the touch drags up his attention. 

It doesn’t feel cumbersome at all, nothing like vulnerability. It’s comforting, centering. He can feel the warmth of Keith’s body, the whisper of his magic against Shiro’s palm. Their fingers slot together so nicely. It looks like all the most beautiful songs, all the paintings humanity has ever created, everything. Condensed down just into the perfect clasp of their hands.

Together. 

Keith’s not really looking at their hands, though. He stares at Shiro, still looking a little wide-eyed. “You— you want to kiss me?”

“Of course I do,” Shiro says instantly.

Keith’s the one to duck his head now, laughing out as if in disbelief. There’s the longest pause where Keith seems to steel himself. 

Then, softly, he says, “You can, um… you can still kiss me if you want. I’d like that.” 

“Really?” Shiro asks.

He’s shocked, but he pushes past that feeling, unwilling to hesitate and miss the chance. His smile turns shy as he steps closer towards Keith, leaning in to kiss him. 

Keith presses in closer, moving just slightly against him. 

He sighs and it’s— perfect. It feels like magic, like all the fire in all the realms. 

Their kiss is soft, chaste, and nothing like a kiss Shiro’s ever experienced before. It lasts only a few seconds but it’s perfect, igniting a devotional heartbond within Shiro, that same feeling he felt the first day Keith ever summoned him, wide-eyed and shocked for a full-fledged demon to emerge from his witch’s circle. He feels the way their magics twine together, the way Shiro’s very soul calls out to tell Keith his true name. 

He pulls Keith in close, kissing him like it’s exaltation, like it’s the last breath he’ll ever take. He feels summoned anew, buoyant and untethered, locked in to Keith and Keith alone. Keith’s free hand comes up to cup Shiro’s cheek, cradling his jaw, and it feels like a heart’s call all its own. 

The kiss is over far too soon. Keith leans back, pink-cheeked but smiling. 

“I’m sorry,” Keith says and Shiro almost despairs. But Keith’s smiling and it soothes whatever fear bubbles in Shiro’s chest.

“What for?” 

“Your— the, uh, ‘mistletoe,’” Keith says. “I didn’t realize you were even thinking about Valentine’s Day traditions.” 

The words niggle at the back of Shiro’s mind. He frowns as Keith’s fingers trace up his jaw, brushing back his hair. His fingers hook around one of Shiro’s horns, like he might draw him down closer. Shiro kind of wants him to.

“I’ve been trying to court you all week,” Shiro says. No sense in not being blunt at this point— it’s worked best so far and it’s clear it’s something Keith values. 

Keith opens his mouth. Then he closes it. Then he opens it again. “What?” 

Shiro frowns deeper still, sighing. “So you really didn’t realize.” 

“Wh— no,” Keith says, shaking his head. “Why would I?”

“I brought you a dessert,” Shiro says. “And I made you a tea about love. And— and the bouquet. The dinner.” 

Keith stares at him. Shiro gets to watch the blush rise anew over his cheeks, kissing the tops of his ears. His fingers unhook from around Shiro’s horn, dropping down to instead scrub through Keith’s hair as he chews on his bottom lip.

“Oh,” Keith says. “Y— I thought you were just being friendly!” 

“Friendly?” Shiro asks. 

“You always give me snacks!” Keith says, protesting. He lets go of Shiro’s hand— a mournful thought, to suddenly feel so empty— and holds his hands up in a placating gesture. “A- and the tea was for your business! And the flowers were ingredients I needed for my spells!” 

“Those were courtship gifts,” Shiro says, aiming again for bluntness. “We shared the strawberry tart.”

Keith sputters. “I didn’t realize! I thought— I thought Kosmo was just— teasing me—”

“Teasing you?” 

“About my crush on you,” Keith says, looking mortified as he ducks his head. “That’s why I stopped bringing him to the shop. He was always trying to trip you so you’d fall into my arms.” 

“Keith!” Shiro gasps, shocked. He cups Keith’s chin to bring him up and presses in, kissing him again. He can’t even help it, he just wants to feel it— and he sighs happily when Keith kisses him back. 

Keith pushes back from the kiss far too soon, laughing. “And, anyway, I started courting you first! You’re the one who didn’t notice!” 

Shiro gapes at him. “What? When? How?” 

Keith snorts. “Last Christmas. I got you under the mistletoe. Do you remember?” 

Shiro doesn’t. He deeply, deeply mourns that he doesn’t. He stares at Keith for so long, so despairing, that he’s not surprised that Keith’s reaction is just to laugh, red-faced and disbelieving. 

“Anyway,” Keith says, voice soft. “So you— you made that tea for _me_? New Love?” 

“Yes,” Shiro says. “Keith. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.”

Keith squeaks. “Wh—”

He lurches up then, kissing Shiro for a third time. He grips Shiro hard by the front of his shirt, sighing out as he sinks into the kiss. This one is much slower. Shiro breathes out Keith’s name, holding him close. 

“I’m sorry,” Keith says once he draws back. “I really had no idea. I didn’t think you paid attention to human customs.” He ducks his head, pressing his face against Shiro’s shoulder. “I feel so dumb for not noticing.” 

“It’s okay,” Shiro says, stroking his hands down Keith’s back. “You… We’re here now. If you want to make it up to me—” 

“Dinner?” 

“Or kissing me more,” Shiro says and laughs. “Or. Ah. Holding my hand?” 

Keith pulls back from Shiro’s shoulder to look up at him, perplexed. “Hand-holding?”

“I find it a very strange human custom,” Shiro says. “But… nice.” 

Keith laughs. “… It _is_ nice, huh?” 

And then he takes Shiro’s hand, lacing their fingers together, just like Shiro’s seen so many couples do before. It’s impractical, but, Shiro must confess, it feels nice. Keith’s hand is small and snug in his, so graceful and yet so strong, callused by years of magic-preparation and practice. 

Shiro squeezes Keith’s hand, cradling it close. 

And then Keith pulls him in and kisses him hard. That’s a much better kiss, deeper and almost dirty, Keith tripping backwards and yanking Shiro with him until they’re sprawled out on his couch. Time sinks away from them. 

When the timer for the pasta goes off, Shiro jerks away from Keith with a gasp, tearing himself away long enough to turn off the oven and set the pasta bake down to cool. He’s halfway into the kitchen before he acutely feels Keith’s absence. Already he’s far too used to holding Keith, holding his hand, kissing his lips, feeling the delightful drag of Keith’s tongue in his mouth. 

But he doesn’t keep Keith waiting long. He returns in several trips, bringing with him a bottle of wine, a box of chocolates, and two hefty plates of pasta bake. They eat together, laughing about the absurdity of the last week and spending as much time as possible kissing each other. 

They cuddle on the couch late into the night and into the early hours of the morning, and Shiro thinks— it’s perfect. He tangles his fingers with Keith’s, holding his hand and kissing him sweetly, the bottle of wine empty between them. 

Human expressions of love might still baffle Shiro in some ways, but if this is the end result, then well. This, he thinks, he can get used to. 

He squeezes Keith’s hand. He doesn’t let go.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> This author replies to comments.
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/stardropdream)


End file.
